Up With the Birds
by StalkerPedoMario98
Summary: (NON-PAIRING FIC - just brotherly love, y'all) An AU that explores the young lives of Sam and Dean several years after both parents have perished in the mysterious nursery fire. Everything is OK as long as they have each other, but when they're separated into two different foster homes, it can only go downhill from there. (there are OCs - they're cool I swear - not intrusive tho)
1. Chapter 1

"Dean, I'm scared. I miss you. Why did they have to split us up?" the small voice on the other end of the phone broke Dean's heart, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to hold his baby brother close to him and make everything (at least seem) better.

"I know, bud, hey it's going to be ok, ya hear me? I'll…I'll find some way to get you back, don't you worry, Sammy." His voice broke, and his sweaty hands gripped the red spiral corded phone in the clean foyer, his knees shaking from stress and utter exhaustion. The heavy smell of cinnamon spice was pungent as it wafted in from the main hallway, making his nose twitch and a headache began to brew in his temples. He could hear the TV was still on – some lousy, late night sit com no doubt – and his new foster parents were no doubt curled up on the love seat like a couple of sods from a teenage romance novel. They were a nice couple in their mid-twenties, new at fostering, wanted kids but couldn't have any for obvious reasons – a semi unusual occurrence for Dean. Typically, he had to deal with two old crows who were having nest issues and couldn't stand the house not having kids of all ages running around screaming their fool heads off. Frankly, Dean would never understand why that kind of household would be a desirable one, but "to each their own", as one of his past teachers had said many a times when describing art work in his history class.

"Deeeaann, why can't I see you now? Why can't you go to the big mean social people and say you wanna be with me?" Sammy's whining and crying dragged him out of his dazed thoughts and caused him to smile sadly and cup the bottom of the receiver. He imagined Sam's eyes were puffy, red and glistening with tears, his bottom lip puckered out and his little brows furrowed in frustration. His cheeks were probably red from all the crying and he was sure there was probably also a streak of snot making its way down to his upper lip. The image was painted so painfully well in his mind that he could feel that tingling sensation in the back of his throat working its way up to his eyes. He pulled in his chapped bottom lip, his teeth sinking into the rough surface and slowly biting down harder until the physical pain masked the emotional, and he swallowed it down, determined not to get so soft when Sam clearly needed him.

"It's not that easy, buddy. There's a lot to go through to do that and I don't think I have the power – I'm so sorry, Sammy. I really do wanna be with you, you know that, but we…have to be apart for right now. It's just like a little vacation from each other, yeah? Nothing permanent. I'll be seeing you sooner than you can say 'new foster parents', OK?" Dean heard the TV click off and his blood froze when the noisy growls of yawns came from the other room. Even though Stevie and Corrin were pretty lenient about bed time and just about anything else, they did have a small rule that the phone was off limits after 10pm. Dean had inwardly shaken his head at himself when he'd seen the time as he'd dialed in Sam's new foster home number, it having been well after 10:30pm. They had one simple, small rule, and he couldn't even stand to follow that. He was sure he wouldn't last long in this one.

"I know, but Dean- ", Sam was interrupted by another gruff voice, his foster father no doubt, calmly ordering him to get off the phone and "go to bed, for God's sake!". Sam sniffled and obeyed, saying goodbye to Dean in the quickest, smallest voice that Dean knew to be his tired and afraid voice.

The line went dead before he could get his own goodbye in, whispering it afterwards anyways in a slow drawn breath. He felt a hand rest on his shoulder and he nearly jumped three feet into the air, his heart thrumming erratically.

"Dean, hon, why are you up so late on the phone? Didn't we say it wasn't to be used after 10?" Corrin's smooth voice came from behind him and he gulped.

"I was just talking to my little brother. He really misses me. Why did they split us apart?" he turned then, his watery eyes wide and pleading for answers. They looked down at him with pitying expressions, and Stevie knelt to just below his eye level.

"I don't know, sweetie, it was just what the social services people thought would be best. Maybe they saw how codependent you two are and figured it would be best to separate you to ensure stronger attitudes. For us it was just because we're so inexperienced and we weren't sure we could handle taking care of two kids." She tried to explain, and Dean knew she meant well, but it still stung a little. He'd been in the foster care loop for 6 years now since his parents had died in the weird house fire and he knew that no matter what house they ended up at, it was always Dean who took care of Sam – not some fruity people filled with good intentions. None of them knew Sam as well as Dean did.

But now that Sam was two towns over with some new unknown people, and Dean was nowhere near to take care of him, he wasn't sure how they could both survive. Those bad social people (not all of them were bad, but since their original social person retired last month and was replaced by a much meaner one, Dean was thinking otherwise) had been right to think they were so codependent, but wouldn't that have been a sign to _not_ separate them? He couldn't understand why they would think that would be a great idea, and he knew he couldn't let it stand for long – he was going to get back to Sam somehow.

When he didn't say anything back to Stevie's explanation, instead simply staring vacantly off to the right at a tall mirror, she stood back up and Corrin helped guide him down the hallway and up the stairs to his new bedroom. He'd been quite pleased with it, to his foster parent's surprise, because it was the only time they'd seen him even close to being somewhat happy. It was a rather normal sized room, except instead of a ceiling there were large pane windows that formed a slight arch over the room. It had especially blown his mind when they'd showed it to him at night (soon after he'd first arrived) since they lived in the outer circle of a city with tall, lit up skyscrapers. If he squinted hard enough he could even see some stars since they weren't too clouded by the city lights. The rest of the room was fairly simple, the walls being a rich periwinkle with cartoonish drawings of planets and stars, the full bed on a platform with two long stairs against a wall which had cut in shelves and sections of smalls drawers. The door jutted out somewhat from a wall that was slanted at a 70 or so degree angle, one side having indents for steps up to the flat roof where they kept a small garden - there was even a pull out couch in the wall on the other side of the jutted out door. It had definitely taken his thoughts off of Sam for about an hour and a half, though really all the while he was thinking – _Sam would_ love _this_.

Stevie ushered him to his bed and pulled back the crisp, clean covers, giving him a faint smile as he climbed in. His new Ghostbusters pajamas were also something that made him grin – he wasn't really sure why, but just the idea of guys running around snatching ghosts and making a business and even a way of life from just baffled his mind. It was just a fictional movie, but sometimes he had to wonder if there really were ghosts and monsters out there in the dark. Of course when he was with Sam he never thought too much about it considering he didn't want to scare his little brother, but since he was seemingly on his own if only for a couple of days (if he could help it), there was more time to think about things he'd been more or less too busy to think about before.

Corrin and Stevie wished him a good night from the open doorway and turned off the lights before closing the door behind them with a soft click. Dean laid back and stared up through the windows at the vast world around him, watching as a helicopter slowly buzzed by, little lights flashing on its belly and tail. He wished he could hitch a ride and see Sam. Surely the pilots wouldn't mind a small detour, Sam's town wasn't really that far away, plus helicopters could travel much farther and quicker than cars stuck on the ground could. Better yet, he wished he could fly. He wished Sam could fly too – then they could go far, far away from people and live in a cave or on a mountain like old hermits, free to do whatever they wanted, whenever.

Dean smiled at the idea and felt his eyes aching to close, and he allowed them to with a heavy yawn. He was asleep in minutes, a grin still hanging on his lips. He knew would think of a plan to get them back together and away from all the bad social service people – no matter what it took.


	2. Chapter 2

The school was called "Middle Point Elementary" and was located a few blocks from his new home on the outskirts of the city. Even though it was his first day there and Stevie had originally planned on taking Dean to school every day since it was on her way to work, he denied her implications and almost demanded to walk the few blocks. Stevie was a pretty laid back parent and agreed to the set up with a shrug of her shoulders, though when Corrin heard of the plan she was none too happy about it.

"You can't just let a 10-year-old kid walk down the street all by himself this early in the morning!" Corrin argued from the kitchen as she packed Dean's lunch, an agitated edge to her movements. Dean sat quietly on the beige couch in the living room, his feet dangling off the front and almost touching the ground while his back rested against the back cushion. He'd been surprised by his height, knowing only a month ago he would've been much farther from the floor. Either he was growing or the couches he'd sat on had differing widths – he figured both could be possible.

"Hon, it's not like we're in _Compton_ or something, it's literally three blocks away – plus Regina said Faye would walk with him." Stevie counteracted, and Corrin sighed frustratingly as she passed Stevie on her way to Dean, gently handing him his surprisingly heavy lunchbox and spun on her heals to confront Stevie again once he'd taken it from her.

"That's not the point! You know we can't just let the poor thing walk to school, he might-" she stopped herself and he saw Stevie's face scrunch up in understanding. A few moments of pregnant silence laid heavily between them, the only sound coming from Dean stuffing his lunchbox in his nearly empty book bag. Stevie finally sighed as well, breaking the conjoined silence when the buzzing sound of Dean's book bag zipper fully interrupted it.

"I don't know what you guys are arguing about, but school starts in 10 minutes and I really need to get going. Let me walk, take me yourselves - I don't care, but I'd like to leave now." Dean pouted as he threw his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door, not looking behind him to see what he figured were surprised faces. A pause followed his declaration before Stevie finally spoke up.

"We trust you to walk directly to school and back, OK Dean? You're a big boy and can do that for us, right?" she asked for reassurance, a tone of authority and discomfort in her typically warm voice. Dean rolled his eyes before finally looking over his shoulder, finding Stevie clutching her chest with wide, kind eyes, and Corrin leaning up close behind her, her face peeking over Stevie's shoulder in interest.

"I'm not exactly the runaway type, ma'am. I know where I belong. See you after 3:00!" he added with a shout after opening the front door and pulling it shut behind him, the brisk morning air of mid-September grabbing hold of him and urging him to feel more free than he actually was. He jumped the front steps three at a time and landed hard on the sidewalk below, his sneakers slapping the pavement as he took off running towards his new school. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he weaved in-between people walking on the sidewalk, loving the way the wind blew through his hair and open fingers too much to care of what they thought or if they even noticed.

He reached his school with 2 minutes to spare, though he was heaving for air with a red face and wild hair. It took him a moment to pull out his small scratch of paper that told him what room number and teacher he would be with, and by the time he finally stepped over the threshold the teacher was calling roll. He stuffed the paper in his back pants pocket and strolled to an empty desk near the windows in the very back, his hands sweating even though he maintained a cool, placid expression. He could feel other kids' looking at him, studying him with wide, dumb eyes, but he stared forward, locking his hands together under his desk after setting his book bag down next to him.

"So you must be our new student, Dean Winchester." The teacher, Mr. Kemp, caught his attention, his odd half-moon glasses perched precariously on the tip of his sharp nose. He had long, wavy silver hair that was pulled back in a loose pony tail and probably went to the center of his skinny back. The tropical shirt he was clad in went interestingly (for lack of a better word) with his black dress pants. His style was truly tied together nicely by his brown sandals, giving whoever was closest by a front row seat to a look at his gorilla-like feet. Dean kind of liked him already – he was definitely a nice change from the either too upbeat or totally stale teachers he'd had in the past. It didn't matter how this guy acted, because he'd always have something interesting about him to make Dean shake his head in defeat.

"Yes, sir, that's me. Sorry I came in late." He found himself apologizing, something he only really did when he first met his teachers or someone he'd have to get to know over a long period of time. It was good to make them think he was more of a 'looser/rule follower' than his typical 'couldn't give a fuck' attitude, which he let loose near the end of his term at any current foster home. There always came a time in his foster homes where he felt he needed a desperate change of scenery and had found a way to get under all of their nerves before being transferred to yet another home. It was a system he was comfortable with – something about the nomadism of it that made him hunger for it every several months. He knew there was no point in acting nice where he currently was since he had full intentions of reuniting with Sam some way or another, but he figured since it was his first day he didn't have to be a dick all the time. Mr. Kemp seemed to be a pretty chill guy, anyways, so no harm in it.

Mr. Kemp waved him off and greeted him with a kind, far away grin, commenting about something that had to do with the 'misconception of time' and how 'humans are the only species that keeps track of time'. Dean zoned out immediately, allowing his eyes to fixate on the recess yard just outside the nearby window. There were slides and swings and a merry-go-round and a jungle gym and _wow_ he couldn't wait.

Eventually he found himself being told to pull out a piece of paper and draw his family and write something he did over the summer, and that it would be added with the rest on the large wall opposite the windows. He complied, immediately drawing Sam and himself as fairly detailed stick figures, both smiling as they climbed a mountain with little bags on their backs. He paused with a frown, realizing that he'd drawn them on opposite side of the mountain, knowing he hadn't consciously decided to draw them apart, but figuring it made sense either way. They could be climbing to the top of the mountain where they would end up together like they were meant to be; 'Kings of the World', they'd be. Dean furrowed his brow and continued coloring in the mountain, drawing little trees all over it and adding other mountain peaks behind it. He knew he wasn't the greatest artist of at least his age group, but he was very proud of his piece once he'd finished just before they were lined up to go to gym class.

Mr. Kemp sent his class off down the hallway ahead of him and smiled approvingly at Dean's drawing when he'd ran up to hand it in. Dean noticed the slight confusion on his teacher's face and paused before running out to follow his classmates.

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Kemp?" Dean asked hesitantly as he stood in the doorway, rolling the tips of his hoody's strings between his forefingers and thumbs. Mr. Kemp glanced from the artwork to Dean and back with a curious gaze.

"Well, I was just wondering what you meant by your summer vacation activities. You said you were just trying to keep your brother safe? Were you not in good hands at one of your past foster homes?" he asked carefully, eyeing Dean from his high view over the paper. Dean's eyes darted to the floor, not realizing how intricate and interesting the tiles were to look at until then.

"No, sir, that's not what I meant. I was just sayin' that it's my life. My summer…my fall, winter, and spring – that's just what I'm supposed to do. I look after my little brother and keep him safe no matter what. Except now they took him away and I can't do that anymore…" he added with a grumble, looking back up at Mr. Kemp with sad, frustrated eyes. Mr. Kemp softened at Dean's explanation and finally knelt down to his level, a bit of pressure and intimidation washing off Dean's instinctual impression of him.

"Why would they do something like that?" he tried to understand, "I'm sure there must've been a valid reason…" his brows furrowed as he looked away, the thought of it obviously starting to get under his skin. Dean wondered if he could get Mr. Kemp on his side; since he was an adult he could do something about this – the legal way. The official way of getting things done. All of Dean's options weren't so official or technically 'kosher' or 'legal' as his social person had called it when he'd first threatened to do such actions upon finding out he and Sam weren't placed in the same home. Of course they underestimated Dean's ideas and had kept them apart anyways. What fools. Dean may not be seen as very book smart, but he was very street smart and knew what he was doing – especially whenever his brother was involved, which he nearly always was.

"Can I go now, sir?" Dean asked, starting to get a little impatient – tired of adults always needing time before they did or said anything. It was a waste of time and Dean couldn't understand why they did it, and it enraged him and made him antsy, always putting him on the edge of his seat. Mr. Kemp stood back up and nodded silently, obviously still deep in thought. Dean pushed off with his left foot and took off out the door and down the hall, glad that the school wasn't very big, making finding the gym a lot less difficult than it could've been.

Upon arriving a little late (to his constant annoyance), he was glad to see his class was still standing around waiting for the teacher to come back from the bathroom, as one girl informed him with batting eyelashes. He'd told her thanks with a flashy grin, his eye brows naturally forming themselves in such a way to show he was interested and flattered since she was the first person his age to talk to him in a couple of weeks. Of course he was sure by his last few weeks he decided he no longer wanted to be around his foster home or even schoolmates, none of them would want to talk to him just like the last group. He was OK with that though – it was just another part of the cycle.

A few minutes later the gym teacher, Mrs. Thorpe showed up and reminded them it was free gym day and they were allowed to do any of the set up games or activities for the entirety of class. Dean was thrilled by this, knowing it would be his chance to worm his way into someone's group or clique. It was never easy or smart to be the odd one out in an environment like school where it was 'beat or be beaten', which could either be a figurative or literal statement. He had a feeling he could find at least a temporary niche in that girl's small clique – a group of them, all dressed alike and wearing similar hairstyles and giggling as they watched him approach them at the jump rope station.

"Hi, I'm Dean. Can I join you girls?" he asked politely, though a sly smile slipped past his mind and fell onto his lips, turning his overall expression wry and causing the girl from before to raise an eyebrow.

"Um, sure, Dean. Of course. Hey, we were just about to set up a double rope – you know how to turn it?" she asked curiously, holding up two separate jump ropes and offering him two ends of both. Through his numerous years of traveling from school to school, he'd picked up a few things - double jump roping being on that list. He gave her a crazy, crooked smile and took the ends from her, simply nodding in response.

"OK then! Barb, Juley, you guys can go in first, then eventually switch out with Karen and Pat, and Dean and I will spin. That sound good?" she asked enthusiastically, and the others nodded and cheered as such. Dean caught someone asking the girl a question, calling her by her name, Laura, and nearly causing Dean to thank the lord above he could finally properly address her.

He definitely impressed the girls with his jump rope skills, to say the least. He'd forgotten how good he was at the game since he'd been out of school since mid-May when Sam and he were taken from their longest lasting foster home and put into a temporary one while their social service person retired. They'd ended up spending the majority of their summer at that foster home until a few days ago when they were taken again and thus separated. It had all happened so fast he hadn't really had time to sincerely sit down and think about it all. He realized with age came more stuff to worry about and be stressed over, which he definitely did not like. He also realized that he'd zoned out while spinning the jump ropes, not fully noticing until Karen messed up and got tangled up in them, causing the other girls along with himself to start laughing their heads off. She had started making such weird dinosaur noises and flailed her arms around like the world was ending and it had just killed them.

Dean laughed along, feeling strangely at home and sort of happy, though somewhat out of body. He couldn't believe how so much good could come out of a bad situation _while_ the bad situation continued. He felt guilty for enjoying himself so much because he didn't know if Sam was feeling the same way, and if Sam wasn't happy then the world wasn't.

He decided to shove away the bad thoughts for a while and genuinely enjoy being around these new, bubbly friends; he was starting to notice a sparkle in Laura's eyes whenever they caught his own. He could sense possibility at this school – usually none of the kids really liked him because he was new and seemed too toxic or something. Of course there were a couple of schools where he'd started out just like this one, but they were never as pure of a new beginning – he would always be too busy worrying about Sam. And of course he was still worried about the little guy, but it wasn't as much of a prominent problem in his mind at the moment since he wasn't even in the same school. He hated battling with himself and his moral and brotherly duties over Sam as if there would be any chance he wouldn't give up his own happiness just to see Sam smile and laugh and hug him and play like a normal kid. He couldn't even fathom it – that kid was his world. Until he wasn't.

Gym class ended shortly after they'd resumed their jump rope game and Dean finally got to be with his class and arrive somewhere on time for the first time that day. Even though he had promised himself a good day, his mood would be constantly brought down whenever anything would remotely remind him of Sam. When they were on their way to lunch, feet shuffling in a line that stretched down the main hallway, he passed a kid sitting on the floor with his head tucked between his knees and his arms wrapped around them, his shoulders shaking as sobbing sounds erupted from him. Had his hair not been the same color and texture as Sam's, he would've felt little remorse for the kid who seemed to be only 5 or 6, but of course it had to be and Dean's heart clenched at the sight. His urge to jump out of line and kneel down over the kid and wrap him up in his arms was far too strong for his liking, and he barred his teeth and turned his head away, moving slowly in his line as they approached the cafeteria.

The food there didn't look very good, and he was silently grateful Corrin had packed him a lunch – she obviously knew what was up. He felt a little bad for the other kids who were stuck trying to digest the peculiarly misshapen chicken nuggets that were hard as rocks, and the mac-n-cheese that was so slimy one kid said it looked like something that came out of his dog's butt once, and the green beans which were limp and more of a brown color from being over cooked. The only food that didn't seem to be inedible or mildly suspicious were the 'freshly made' chocolate chip cookies – 15 cents apiece. One of his new friends at the table he'd actually been invited to sit at (he couldn't believe his ears when one of the boys had called him over to sit with them) had given him half of one of his 3 cookies, and Dean could agree that it was quite delectable.

The rest of the day went by very quickly – much quicker than Dean would've thought because before he knew it a voice was scratching at his ears from over the intercom with boring news he could care less about. Throughout the afternoon he'd began to get an uneasy feeling, and he had no idea why. It was like he knew something bad had happened somewhere, but he had no reason to believe so. Bad stuff happened in the world all the time, so he wasn't sure what could possibly trigger him in whatever supernatural way that it was.

Corrin had just picked up the ringing phone when he finally got home, her head snapping to the front door down the hall and a smile spreading across her face upon recognition. She greeted the caller with a formal "Hello?" and paused for an answer, her expression turning sad and tired when she heard who it was. She motioned for Dean to come to her and his heart rate picked up.

"It's Sam." She mouthed and he was immediately by her side, gripping for the phone with wide and worried eyes. She passed it to him and turned away, covering her mouth with her hand in attempt to hide her emotions.

"Sammy?! Sammy are you the- "

"Dean?" an older man interrupted his frantic motherly clucking, his voice gruff and unpleasant in his ear where Sam's sweet small voice belonged.

"Where's Sammy!? What did you do to him!?" Dean jumped to conclusions, cussing and fussing at himself for having been so lenient as to let them split he and Sam apart. If this guy was Sam's captor or whatever worse, Dean would be the first to find him and rip him to shreds, so help him, God…

"Calm down, son, I haven't done anything accept lose the poor little guy! My wife went to pick Sam up from school this afternoon and when she got there they said he had just left on foot with another little boy. We waited for a while and when he'd yet to show up, and we saw the boy they'd said been walking with him pass by ten or so minutes ago, he said Sam had insisted he go visit you!" the man sounded more and more worried as he spoke, and Dean could imagine him wringing his hands while his wife stood nearby, tugging at one of her many colorful necklaces that she'd collected over the years. Though Dean was stressed and miffed that Sam would pull such a stunt, he was secretly flattered that his little brother was determined to come see him even though they'd only been separated for three or four days.

"Well, why are you talking to me when you could be out searching for him? There are two big cities between us and he barely has any idea where my address is! He could be lost somewhere or someone could've taken him already! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! HE'S ALL I'VE GOT! ARE YOU FUCKING _NUTS_?!" Dean yelled angrily into the phone, the full realization and enormity of the situation hitting him square in the head like a cinder block. His little brother was out there in the city, darkness approaching, his two little legs pumping hard as he ran down crack head alleyways and cracked back roads.

He and Dean had done something of the sort one time a couple of foster homes ago when it'd been snowing and they'd experienced a 2-foot snow fall. They had wanted to go running around town in the morning while it was still mostly covered and blocked from use, but their foster parents had said no to the idea since they would be working at home and wouldn't be able to watch over them while they played. Dean had called bull shit on the order, and Sam and he had sneaked out at midnight while everyone else was sleeping and played in the white blanketed streets, an eerie though mystical mood being easily set by the bright street lamps. That night had been one of Dean's most cherished memories with Sam, and little did he realize what kind of impact that would leave on his brother to think that running from home, if only for a visit to someplace better, was a good idea if the chance presented itself – and it always did.

Dean heard Corrin gasp his name when she heard him cuss, his screaming alarming her as she quickly grabbed the phone from him, his chest heaving as tears formed in his eyes. Stevie walked through the door at that time and stopped in her tracks, totally confused by what was going on.

"Dean?! Corrin, what happened?" she called out among Dean's crying which had formed into heavy sobs as he folded into himself on the floor, his knees pulled tight to his chest. She rushed to his side, trying to get any information out of the two of them, but getting nowhere since Corrin was having a heated discussion with the seemingly irresponsible foster parents on the other end of the catastrophe.

Dean knew that he needed to get up and go looking for his brother since it seemed no one else was going to bother to, but his legs felt like Jell-O and his arms wouldn't unwrap from his knees.

 _Wherever you are, Sammy, I'll come to get you. I'll save you. They'll never split us apart ever again. I promise._


	3. Chapter 3

Sam had never seen a city so large. He knew it probably wasn't as large as it seemed to big people like his brother or adults, but to him it was just the hugest sight he'd ever seen. He was resting on top of a large hill he'd climbed just outside of what he knew to be his brother's city, the sun setting just between a pair of skyscrapers that were particularly close together – just like he would be with Dean in a little bit. The fact of the matter made him grin, and he breathed in the smoggy air as if it were the purest thing he'd smelt since he could remember.

He'd been studying maps trying to figure out the quickest and least dangerous ways to get to Dean's address ever since he found the files with the information on it a couple days ago. He might be young, but he had a thinker that made most teachers admit they couldn't believe how talented and smart he was for his age (which always made Dean beam down at him and made him beam back). Not only that, but he somehow knew he was different from the other kids – even Dean. It was like there was a part of him that wasn't him…a part that gave him nightmares that he could never remember upon waking up drenched in sweat and screaming for his big brother. He hadn't had one in a while, but he could feel some sort of…evil working its way up from deep inside of him, unable to contain itself and aching to take control or at least ravage him in his sleep. He knew for sure that he wouldn't be able to handle another one of those nightmares without Dean, which was one of his main fuels to keep him moving, no matter the guilt or consequences.

He hadn't liked the idea of leaving so late in the afternoon, but he knew that would be his only legitimate chance to slip away since he was literally locked into his room every night like an animal (bolted windows and the whole shebang). He knew they meant well, but it almost seemed like they really just needed an actual pet instead of treating him like one.

Even though his feet were starting to ache (he'd been walking for a good 2 hours), he knew he had to keep going, knowing he was close. He never felt so sure about something before – other than his loyalty and love for his brother of course. Everything he did was in all intense and purposes for Dean. Sam just craved to make him proud.

As he continually tried to reassure himself and walk with his eyes cast down with a ball cap snug over his shaggy brown hair, he nearly ran into someone. His first instinct was to excuse himself and continue on his way, and that would've made sense if he was walking on a sidewalk or in a busy area, but he was on the outskirts of a city's suburb on a lonely hill shrouded by the nearby forest's gloomy shadows and mysteries. It startled him a little and he found a pair of large, crystal blue eyes staring back at him, mesmerizing and paralyzing him for a moment before he let out a shout and tripped backwards over a patch of rocks and landed with a noisy _oof_ on his bum.

It was a girl about his age with a ripple of fire atop her head that was somehow pulled back into a messy bun. There was a sharpness to her features that captured Sam's attention immediately and stuttered his attempt to right himself from his tumble. The girl tilted her head, a curious grin parting her thin lips and allowing pearly teeth to peek out. She had a creepy way of grinning that made Sam's eyebrow raise unconsciously, and she noticed with an odd, barking laugh.

"Are you ok, dude?" her voice was sort of shrill, but full of kindness and curiosity that somewhat eased Sam's fright. He shook his head and stood swiftly, brushing himself off while suddenly making sure he didn't make eye contact. Dean had told him to never talk to strangers unless he was there to say it was alright.

"So you're the silent type, huh? That's OK, I don't mind one-sided conversations that much – especially since I talk to myself all the time 'cause I ran away from home a few days ago…that's what you're doing, yeah? Headed anywhere in particular?" Sam was amused with the girl's chatter but remained quiet. He didn't realize until then that they'd started to walk in the direction he'd intended to continue towards, the girl moving smoothly backwards with quick glances here and there to be sure she didn't trip like Sam had. He kind of enjoyed her sudden company, her excitement taking his mind off all the complicated things he'd been left to worry over while on his previously lonely trek.

"It's OK, you don't have to tell me, I get it, confidential stuff. D'you know what confidential means? You're pretty young, what's a young fella like you doing out here all alone? Well you aren't anymore since I found you – well you kinda found me. I was just taking a breather and there you were! You don't look where you're walking much do you?" Sam shook his head with an embarrassed smile, trying to train his eyes away from such a silly character, and she laughed at his attempt while skipping down low to follow his line of sight with a wild, goofy grin.

After several minutes of chattering aimlessly, the girl eventually quieted, only speaking to herself in small huffs under her breath, sometimes giggling and causing Sam to glance wearily at her as they trudged forward. It wasn't until the sun had nearly sunk below horizon that they found themselves in the thinning outskirts of a suburban park. Sam hadn't thought to glance at his map until then, and furrowed his brow when he found they were straying from the direction he'd been heading when he'd stumbled across the girl.

He shoved the map back into his school bag that his foster parents had given him in attempt to get him excited about a new beginning with them. It'd been a nice gift and he'd felt very welcomed by it, but he knew there was nothing they could do for him to fill the empty part of his soul where Dean wasn't.

He still remembered the first night without his brother – he'd cried till he was all dried up, and even then he'd cry more. He didn't get a wink of sleep that night, always afraid something or someone would crawl out from under his unfamiliar and lonely bed and harm him – or worse, take him away forever so there was no chance he'd see Dean ever again. Thinking of it now sent a chill down his spine and through his tired legs, urging him to continue his journey whether he needed to rest or not. A glance back at the girl told him she was waning as well, and had been oddly quiet since they'd started their way through the park. There was a pale glow to her skin from the loud moonlight, and her eyes were cast solemnly to the ground.

"Are you OK?" Sam finally piped up, his small voice startling the girl but forcing a lopsided grin on her shadowed features.

"So you do have a tongue - yeah I'm OK, just…tired. It's been a long day." She commented lightly, her feet dragging against the cleanly cut grass. "Also it seems that despite my efforts, you've brought me back home against my knowledge."

Sam tilted his head in confusion and remembered the map and where they were assumed to be. He hadn't recalled which way the girl had been sitting when he'd stumbled onto her, but he was sure that she was conscious enough to deter going back to where she came from since she would've recognized it. Then again she was a seemingly odd girl, so he wouldn't put it past her to get her directions mixed up – he'd done it himself. Even so…it baffled him a little – like she'd wanted to get hopelessly lost in the forest and had chiefly done so.

"So you live around here? Do you know where 382 Pine is?" Sam suddenly realized he had a real-life consultant and was eager to soak up any help he could get, be it from a stranger or a tree. The girl, noticing that the flood gate in Sam's mouth had been opened for important reasons, thought long and hard, murmuring how she thought it sounded familiar. This sparked as a twinkle of hope in Sam's desperate mind, and he moved closer to her as if he could draw the information from her very being. Eventually she started to nod, the pace quickening as a confirming smile spread across her face.

"Yeah, oh my gosh, my grandmother lives at 271 Pine, so it's gotta be on the same street! But if I think we are where we are, that's a good 30 minutes' drive – so it'd take us like an hour if we ran really fast. Hey we're pretty close to my house though, and I doubt my mom even noticed I was missing all day so we could rest up there and then I can figure out the directions in daylight tomorrow. If that's ok…" she added, noticing the crestfallen look which had replaced Sam's excitement. He merely responded with a slow nod, knowing that even though they were quite close, there was no use showing up at the middle of the night – plus he wasn't very fond of the darkness that was closing in on them and causing him to unconsciously pick up his pace between every sidewalk light as they approached the front of the neighborhood park. Sam almost paused for a brief second when he noticed an oddly hunched over lump on one of the park benches, the size of them smaller than the typical homeless person, but he decided to think nothing of it and skirted anxiously behind the girl, an odd feeling washing over him and coating him in a nervous sweat.

"Oh yeah I definitely know where we are now – my house is just over there, see? The two-story house with the lights all off? And at only like, 7:30…mom definitely never noticed I was missing. It would look like the house was on fire otherwise." She muttered hollowly as they met the main street. The neighborhood laid out before them was clean cut and average, though nice, the wealth of it coming off with subtle attributes such as slightly nicer cars parked on finely paved driveways and curtly tended to yards with a kind amount of decorations and flowers. Sam could barely make out the city which raised up far beyond it, the lights casting a shallow, dirty pink glow into the dark night sky.

They approached the darkest home on the street with little caution, the girl leading the way. He wasn't sure why he hadn't caught her name during all the time she'd been going on and on about herself and other various odd things, but he liked to think she'd never even mentioned it. He hadn't offered his own name so he figured she didn't care much enough to be the first. There would surely be signs of it inside the house and he could somehow reciprocate.

As they walked up the front walkway, Sam took note of all the things that made the girl's home seem almost familiar to him from all the different homes he'd been in. From the crooked blinds to the peeling roof which littered the front yard with black flakes that were meant to hide away the dull, silver tin underneath, Sam found himself shivering a little as unpleasant memories flooded his jumbled mind. He knew they would've been much worse had Dean not been there, but even still they procured a sour taste in his mouth.

Entering the house through a creaky wooden door covered in odd symbols, the hairs on the back of Sam's next rose at the sinister silence that followed once he pulled the door shut behind him. The girl didn't say anything as she slowly moved to flip lights on and lazily cut the TV on in order to shatter the silence with a pair of jovial news anchors joking about the weather with the weather lady. Their happiness and carelessness always seemed to suck the life out of anyone watching - or at least it did for Dean, which was why Sam never watched the news much. He supposed it was important to watch, but it wasn't like he couldn't get by without watching it.

"You want anything to drink?" the girl asked hospitably, a warm tone underlying her tired eyes as she lead him into the kitchen and spun back to face him. He forced an innocent half smile and said water would be fine. He hadn't thought to bring drinks or food – he'd figured he'd be in Dean's arms hours ago; because not only was his judgment of time incorrect, but his distance and direction.

"You can crash in my room with me. I should have a sleeping bag, blankets, and some pillows for you. It'll be a sleepover – oh I haven't had one of those in a very long time." She smiled excitedly at him, a hint of pain hidden in the folds of her crinkled eyes. Sam smiled awkwardly back, unsure what the point of sleepovers were unless necessary – what did it mean to sleep at someone's house purely for the fun of it? The whole idea of it confused him but he figured there was no harm to it so he may as well try to enjoy himself. It would be interesting to spend time alone with someone other than his deeper thoughts or even Dean. His brother would always be his first choice to be with and hang out with no matter what of course, but sometimes he wondered what it'd be like to have a friend to do such funny customs as 'sleepovers' with.

"Thank you for letting me stay here, you really didn't have to…" he started off as he sipped at his water and tossed feverish glances at her, her body slack against the counter top opposite of him. She smiled tiredly and simply nodded, her eyelids drooping and the fast shaking of her right leg slowing to a lazy, almost dance-like rhythm. Sam could feel his own limbs protesting for rest, and had a feeling he wouldn't last much longer propped up against the island, glass of water in hand.

Eventually he set his glass down and the girl took it as a sign of his readiness for bed. She led him through the dimly lit TV room, commercials now blaring about this and that, money money money, etc., and Sam was glad to finally escape up the stairs and away from the constant berating of broadcasting salespeople. He wasn't sure what it was with adults and their need to get under other people's skin to get what they want, but guessed that if it wasn't broke then why fix it?

As they made it to the top of the beige carpeted stairs, the girl turned to him with a thin finger on her pursed lips, signaling him to be 'extra quiet', he guessed. They crept along and moved through the slender hallway which had boxes and piles of books and paintings propped up against the railing and other knickknacks stuck here and there – Sam was nearly afraid he'd run into something and cause an awful calamity, but when they rounded another corner and entered the girl's room he silently prided himself. She closed the door after he passed through, flicking the overhead light on and illuminating the moderately sized room in a yellow glow, leaving many things still shrouded in other object's shadows. Sam couldn't begin to take in everything the girl had in her room, there was just so much. From band posters to lava lamps to potted plants like succulents and cacti to shelves and shelves of books and notebooks and journals to art that was obviously self-made and so on, she clearly seemed to have it all. Sam even noticed a small TV on a mini table in the far corner of the room with some sort of gaming system plugged into it, ready to be played until his hands cramped up.

The girl had a wide smile smothered onto her proud freckled face, and with a faint whisper she asked if he liked it. He nodded slowly, his eyes wide as they scanned and tried to take in everything at once – which was virtually impossible. As he continued to gawk, she went to her closet and pulled a mountain of blankets and sleeping bags down from the top shelf and elsewhere, tossing them to the empty floor behind her; another thing he'd noticed was how impeccably clean her room was, despite all the things she had. He knew from past experiences that a clean room was the proper thing to keep, although his brother wasn't above leaving dirty clothes and old papers on the floor and wherever else they weren't meant to be. He knew that was just how Dean was, but sometimes it dug into his nerves – even when a foster parent wouldn't notice or didn't even care.

After laying everything out she kicked off her shoes and turned to him expectantly, to which he followed suit while also setting his bag down by the pillow he'd rest his head on. He figured she'd go off to the bathroom for a nighttime routine such as brushing her teeth or washing her face which he'd come accustomed to doing, but she simply dove into bed without changing clothes. She appeared much smaller and frail buried underneath the ocean of blankets, only her head poking out from the arrangement, giving her an innocent disposition.

He grinned shyly at her before crawling under his own blankets – she'd created quite a set up and he found it was rather close to being as comfortable as sleeping in any other bed – and laying face up, realizing the lights were still on. A few seconds passed before two sharply measured claps rang out from above him and the lights snapped off. He could hear a snicker come from the girl which made him grin. Though it seemed she'd gone through some rough patches (perhaps not as badly as himself, but he had no idea), she was such a free spirit regardless. He hoped he could remain as vigilantly content as herself. He knew he would just as soon as he was with Dean again…

The thought of his brother and his smile which encapsulated Sam despite the mood he was in sent a burst of courage and thrill through him, and he wasn't sure how he was going to be able to sleep with such excitement on his mind. Tomorrow would be such a promising day…he could already feel it.


	4. Chapter 4

The late summer air stung his lungs as he shot down the dimly lit sidewalks of some wordy suburb. His tears had dried quickly after the shock completely took over him, and he'd known what he had to do. He could still just barely hear his foster parents screaming throatily for him several blocks back, but they were slowing and losing hope after such a long chase. Dean knew he wasn't going to stop until he found his little brother, no matter how long it took or what he had to do. Sam's safety was his number one concern, and it was in possible jeopardy which was something he simply couldn't allow.

His voice was raspy from screaming Sam's name, and he honestly wasn't sure how much longer he could last despite his determination. At first he thought some sort of movie ending would produce itself where he would turn a corner and Sam would be there, and suddenly they'd be running in slow motion towards each other as the city lights flashed their selfless brotherly desire; that hadn't happened however, and it was surely getting late. He could feel his body waning though his spirit remained strong, and he reasoned that if he didn't find Sam in the next several minutes, he would resort to simply walking with his hood shadowing his face in order to slowly scour the streets with a little less question to his young physique from passersby.

Once the time came, he slowed to a walk as he'd promised himself he would and immediately flipped up his thin hood, allowing it to block his peripherals and shroud his worried features in darkness. Only the occasional street lamp shined on his nose as he passed under it, the brightness, though dim, annoying and nearly intrusive as he tried to make his way unnoticed. At one point, he heard the giggling of a few children behind a fenced in yard, and he peeked through anxiously only to find two boys and a girl (all about Sam's age but probably younger) being watched dutifully by two young couples as they ran about in the backyard trying to catch fireflies. Dean's heart clenched at the sight but he pulled away from the fuzzy scene and returned to his search. Sam wouldn't be found if Dean were to act as a seemingly lazy big brother and not devote all his time to finding him.

Dean wasn't sure how much time passed before he found himself all alone on a park bench in some unknown suburb, his head hung low and his eyelids even lower, fluttering as a heaviness gently tugged on them to close. He had to shake his head and sit up from passing out, his head spinning and his calves sore. The shuffling of leaves and hushed chatter arose from behind him and the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight, his first instinct being to make himself seem like he was big enough not to be messed with, but also not big enough to provoke any potential…well, whatever could come about from sitting on a park bench in the middle of the night.

With his hood pulled far over his face, he tucked his chin into his right shoulder and drew into himself, making sure his back and shoulders were raised to make him seem older and perhaps more dangerous. He'd learned some self-defense over his years of different foster parents, but not nearly enough to put off an actual attack which would assumedly come from behind the way the footsteps were sounding.

Eventually they pattered off and disappeared, and he drew out from his makeshift cocoon, blinking his heavy-lidded eyes slowly and observantly in a cautious deadpan. It was going to be a long night.

Dean wasn't sure at what point he'd fallen asleep, but he awoke to the smooth sound of a car passing by and noticed the sky was a hazy ocean blue, thin rays of light streaking through feathery clouds and contrails. A helicopter buzzed by and he wondered if they'd still give him a ride – not that they'd agreed to it beforehand, and not that he'd asked in the first place.

He rubbed the crust from his eyes, his fists rolling tiredly in his eye socket, the gentle pressure making him want to never get up. But of course he had to get off his lazy ass if he were going to find Sam, though. The recurring thought was enough to push himself up from the seat, stretch, take a few staggering steps, and start off on his quest once more.

Despite his sudden vigor, he didn't get far before a car was pulling up beside him and a man in uniform was getting out and approaching him. He'd nearly cursed and taken off when he'd spotted the unmarked car starting to follow him a block back, but he chose to stick to his current jaunt and see how things unfolded. Perhaps the officer could help him in his tiring search.

"Excuse me, son? What's a young man like yourself doing walking the streets this early in the morning?" the officer asked in a low voice, curiosity lacing his generally authoritative tone. Dean's eyes cast down to the smooth sidewalk, the beat of his heart picking up and beating loud enough he was sure the man would hear it.

He decided to simply shrug, hoping the officer would do the same and move along, leaving Dean to his search. But perhaps the officer could help him – that's what cops did, right? The helped people and kept them safe, which certainly meant finding someone who may be in danger or who knew what else. He glanced over and noticed the officer was studying him with a concerned though wary frown.

"Are you Dean Winchester? Your parents are looking-"

"They aren't my parents, they're just foster care. I don't see why they're still looking for me since I made it pretty clear I'm searching for my little brother, and I'm not coming back until I find him." Dean snapped at the officer whose badge said "Officer Hunt", which made Dean sneer. How ironic. Hunt glared at him.

"That's no way to talk to an officer, boy. It shouldn't matter that they're just your foster parents, because they're the ones who are looking out for you now, so of course they're looking for you. Now why don't you come with me – we can head to the station and start a definite search for your brother. He won't get found if you're missing too. Come on, son." Officer Hunt started to guide Dean towards his cruiser, but as soon as he moved his hand to open the door for him, Dean took off at full speed. Hunt shouted at him in surprise and anger, kicking off after him.

Dean knew he had to get somewhere the officer couldn't – if he could find somewhere to hide, perhaps, he could get away for a little while. From now on he knew he'd have to be rather stealthy if he would ever get to finding Sam. He wasn't sure what he'd just gotten himself into, but he knew only trouble would lie behind him, and he couldn't afford to lose any more time in his search.

He decided to double back through a few open yards and spotted an old, girlish plastic play house in a back yard, pale from the constant caress of the sun over the years, and knew that it would be the perfect hiding place. He swiftly ducked inside of it and pulled the small door closed behind him. He took the quiet of the playhouse to slow his heart beat and wish he could take a shower since he was wearing his sweat like a second skin. The pounding of someone running by only quickened his pulse and his eyes were blown wide with adrenaline, angst and anticipation.

With bated breath, he listened as the footsteps got farther away and echoed off into the distance. He sunk back against the wall with a glassless window and let out a low, shaky sigh. He couldn't believe how close he'd gotten to being caught indefinitely, unable to continue his search. He couldn't let it happen again.

He would find his brother and bring him to safety – _if it were the last thing he did._


	5. Chapter 5

**(a/n: FINALS ARE DONE OMFG YES no promises on quick updates but most likely yes so thank :D 3)**

Sam woke to on odd concentration of heat on his face, and when he opened his eyes he immediately squeezed them shut to find the sun screaming "hello" at him. A funny groan sounded above him, and at first he was alarmed before he took a moment to remember all that had transpired the day before. He was in some girl's room having a mini sleep-over – if only Dean could see him now. There was no doubt a few innuendos would find their way out of his big brother's dirty mouth, making Sam more or less eager to leave the girl behind despite their small bond.

He sat up among the piles and lumps of blankets and sleeping bags, which had sagged away from him during the night, and stretched his arms and curled his toes in preparation of a potentially beautiful day. He was glad to partially move away from the sun's reach but enjoyed the calmness and familiarity it washed over him.

"Mornin', dude!" the girl (how had he still not caught her name?) called out warmly from her bed above him. There was some rustling and then Sam was doubled over, a new pillow laying innocently beside him which had surreptitiously been thrown at the back of his head. He righted himself and glanced back at the girl to find her at the end of her bed with a shit-eating grin and her nose crinkled with amusement. He shook his head at her before lazily tossing it back in a flash, surprising her with a pillow to the face.

"I need to be leaving. I have to get to my brother. You said you know where he may live?" Sam got to the chase as they made their way downstairs after a quick pillow fight. Sam hadn't understood what a real pillow fight was until the girl had hurled several at him and declared war, despite the fact that she'd started it in the first place which wasn't typically how wars were declared, at least Sam thought.

The girl snapped her head to him a little too quickly to not mean something deeper, but all she did was agree with a slow nod as they approached the kitchen. There was a short note on the fridge which said "Back around 10pm. Lunch and Dinner in fridge. – Mom", and the girl glared at it before grabbing it, crumbling it, and throwing it unceremoniously into the trash can with a grumbled _"Typical."_

Sam offered her a saddened though understanding smile and she brushed it off as she opened the fridge and started rifling around for some sort of breakfast material. Eventually they were sat on the island stools eating eggs and bacon she had cooked up for them, a companionable silence stretched between them as the sunlight found its way across their plates on its rising journey.

They were nearly done when the doorbell rang, and the girl hopped off her stool and moved cautiously to the front door, peaking through the peep hole and visibly breathing out a sigh. She pulled the door open and light fell like a huge wave over her, making her shoulder length red hair shine like fire. A tall, uniformed man stood at the doorway, a concerned though official look on his face which soon softened when he saw the girl.

"Hello, young lady. Is a parent or guardian home? Or have you seen a boy about your age with short, spikey brown hair running around here? He's kind of thin for his age with hand-me-down clothes – he's run away from home looking for his brother who's also missing. We think he may be in this area from a recent encounter." The officer asked gently, his eyes wandering behind her as he finished and widened when he saw Sam.

Sam's heart was racing and he wondered if he should stick it or run – but his brother was looking for him?! Why would he do such a funny thing?! How had he even known Sam had run away in the first place? It felt unlikely that his foster parents would've cared enough to call for help, but apparently they must've. This wasn't how he'd wanted things to turn out at all.

The girl looked back at Sam and noticed the way he drew into himself and could tell he wanted no part with the law. "I'm sorry, no, officer. I haven't seen either one." The girl automatically covered for him, and he grinned innocently back at the man. The officer pursed his lips and glanced between the girl and Sam, a sure look staining his face.

"Are you Sam Winchester, son? Your brother is looking for you – isn't that the reason you ran away in the first place? To be with him? Well now he's out on the run lookin' for you, and he could get very hurt or worse if we don't find him soon. You ended up in the right hands, I see, but it may not be the same for him. Come with me, son, we can go look for him together." The officer anxiously tried to step past the girl but she held her ground.

"Hey! Mr. "I can enter someone's house 'cause I don't know the rules"! If my friend doesn't wanna go with you then leave him be. You can't force him with you!" she growled protectively, and Sam felt his stomach flip, sending a shiver down his spine. Only Dean had ever cared enough about him to stick up for him like that. He was really starting to like this girl.

A flash of pure anger struck the man's face like lightning and in seconds his fingers were wrapped menacingly around the girl's neck, slowly hoisting her up by it. The girl was letting out quivering screeches as she helplessly grabbed at his veined hand around her throat, her face easily turning from a beat red into a dangerous shade of pale blue.

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, you little _bitch_." The man swore and Sam was frozen in his stool, legs drawn to his shaking chest as he began to hyperventilate. He'd never experienced such violence close at hand, and he definitely did not like it at all. What seemed cool in the movies was not so much in reality.

Only a moment or two went by (though it felt like years) before he tossed her far enough to land on a nearby recliner, her eyes closed with tears careening down her extremely reddened cheeks. A huge hand print was already bruising her neck which curved back slightly like a bird shot out of the sky, her hair cascading out around her seeming more like blood by the second.

"Sammy Winchester – such a pleasure to finally meet you, son! I'm not sure how it took us this fucking long to find you, but thank goodness we did at such a young, developing age! So much room for improvement!" The man had made his way into the house and was approaching Sam with such a murderous though almost fond gaze that confused and equally frightened him.

"Who…who are you and what do you want with me?!" Sam found himself saying, his voice just above a whisper, his hands shaking and sweating and clamped tightly together around his legs. He peered out at the man through the valley his knees made, and wished he could simply close his eyes and find the man gone and replaced by the curious and kind girl who looked more like a rag-doll at the moment. He desperately hoped she was OK. He could never forgive himself if something bad were to happen to her, especially after all she's done for him.

"I'm Dan. Kind of a middle level guy who was sent to find you and…help correct you. You'll be growing up in the right environment now. You just may be the world's next beauty queen ruler and there's no way you'd have the right skills or training just sitting in a normal foster home. You need our guidance. This is your destiny." Dan was rambling on and on, and the more he talked the more scared shit-less Sam was becoming.

"Is it like…the X-Men or something?" he asked with wide, shimmering eyes, thinking about the super human super heroes calmed him a little, but by the mean way Dan had treated the girl, he wasn't too sure it would be anything like the X-Men.

"Not quite, but if that means you'll shut up then sure." Dan grumbled, stepping closer to him with clenched fists and a hard look in his eyes. Sam thought of trying to flee, but he'd missed his opportunity as soon as the 'officer' had noticed him. He wondered if he could simply shrink into a little ball and roll away unnoticed – he wished he had a cool super power like an X-Men. What he would give to be Cyclops at the moment.

Before Sam could retort anything, Dan had stepped up to him, a cloth in his hands which he pressed firmly over Sam's nose and mouth, his other hand gripping the back of his neck to ensure no slippage of air with a full coverage.

A ruthless, toothy smile, and a pair of tar-black eyes peered hauntingly down at him, and Sam's whole world quickly became that exact shade of pure darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean wasn't sure what time it was or how long he'd been squatting (literally) in the toy house, but he had a feeling the officer had given up on him. He was starting to get rather bored of the simple walls of his newest home, and thought venturing out and continuing his search wasn't the best or worst idea he could think of. He surely wasn't going back home of course, that would mean all he'd gone through was practically for nothing. If anything, he'd never get to leave the place again, and he definitely couldn't have that.

Pushing the small door open and even shutting it behind him, he tip-toed his way out of the small backyard and back to the sidewalk which had a few morning joggers along it's tired back. He was either getting a serious case of déjà vu, or he really did recognize his surrounding – there across the street was the park with the same bench he'd sat on earlier in the morning. He wasn't sure how he'd missed it, but a very tall obelisk stood in what could be assumed as the center of the park, and Dean figured he could use it as a point of reference if need be.

He started off along the sidewalk which disappeared into the horizon of houses upon houses, the sight of it all creating a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach with the remembrance that Sam could be literally _anywhere_. Dean could walk right past him in any of these houses and he'd never know. His pace slowed down a little at the thought, and he found himself stopping when the sound of a door slamming shut caught his attention from several houses down.

An officer – _not the one who'd been after me_ , he thought in somewhat relief – was carrying a body. Was he witnessing something he wasn't supposed to be? It wasn't Dean's fault the man was doing it in broad daylight on the side of a popular suburban street. The body in his arms was small, like someone younger than Dean, perhaps. The kid's face was turned into the officer's chest, and Dean had to wonder again if he were dead or something, though the thought made him feel sick to the stomach.

He started moving forward again, though when he'd made the decision to do so, he wasn't sure. As he approached the man and the kid, his eyes widened with recognition – weren't those Sam's shoes? And the jacket looked like one he'd handed down to Sam – and that mop of dark brown hair…

Dean broke out into a run, though he had no idea what he was going to do once he reached them, so he cried out Sam's name. The officer's head snapped to him, glaring back with large black eyes that made Dean scream Sam's name in desperation, fear bubbling inside of him. This man, or _thing_ , was no officer.

"Let him go, you bastard!" He hissed as he launched himself on the thing, fingers curling like claws around its neck in a split second decided attack that had it nearly dropping Sam – yes it was Sam, his small face with closed eyes that made Dean feel overwhelmingly relieved he seemed to be more or less unhurt.

Dean managed to hang on, clawing at the thing's throat for a good ten seconds before being tossed off, landing hard in the middle of the street. The thing quickly regathered Sam in its arms and darted across the street past Dean whose head was spinning and knew he was bleeding from somewhere though he wasn't sure where. Feeling as though he may pass out, but knowing Sam was essentially being kidnapped right in front of his fucking eyes, he willed himself to his hands and knees. His arms shook dangerously, unsure if they could hold him up, but he forced them to – Sam's life was on the line!

"GIVE ME BACK MY BROTHER, YOU ASSHOLE! OR I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL TEAR YOU TO SHREDS!" Dean roared as he pushed himself to his feet and staggered forward, his right ankle practically letting out a scream of its own. _Damn my ankle_ , he thought sluggishly as he watched the thing open the door to a cop car and shove Sam into the back seat. Dean screamed out his name again just before the door was slammed shut and suddenly the thing was in front of him.

"Would you _shut_ _up_!? It's still morning – you don't wanna wake the neighbors, do you?" The thing growled with a menacing grin before it reared back and punched the absolute lights out of Dean, sending him back across the street and into the front yard of the house it had emerged from with Sam.

By the time Dean was able to regain himself and sit up, the car was gone and he was alone again. He'd never seen (or felt) such a punch, which sounded his already off the walls alarm bells that something extremely supernatural was in the works. And that thing…its black eyes still haunted Dean and confused him – what kind of person, or perhaps…monster, would take his little brother?

Dean decided he didn't care what the reason or excuse may be, and only knew he had to get Sam back. A small part of him was rather annoyed by the whole ordeal - despite his undying love for his kid brother – considering he always seemed to be rescuing Sam. Why was his brother usually the bait or victim of situations anyhow? Either way, it frustrated Dean and he wished whatever malevolent force that played puppetry with their lives would just stop, because it was getting old very fast – and wearing them out, as well.

He took a long, hard look at his surroundings, trying to memorize it all and figured a fair place to start his search and perhaps get a lead, would be the house Sam and the thing had emerged from when Dean first saw them. He was already in the front yard, his ass having scraped up some of the well-manicured and seemingly untouched lawn, so he stood up shakily and made his way at a slow, hobbling pace to the front door. When he tried the knob, he found it to be opened – though monsters caring innocent bodies probably didn't have a lot of time to worry about locks or other silly security mechanisms.

The door moved smoothly and silently across the beige carpeted foyer, bumping lightly on the hallway wall and vibrating back into more silence. An open living room was laid out before him and everything seemed to be fairly in order until his eyes crossed over the body of a young girl splayed out on a recliner.

He rushed over to her and tried waking her up or to get some sort of response, but from the slow beat of her heart it seemed she was out cold, which he supposed was better than the alternative. There was a large hand print bruised into the skin of her neck, the fingers wrapping nearly all the way around to touch each other.

Dean wondered if he should stay with her until she woke up, or call 911 and go searching for his brother on his own, which would take who knows how long. Would he be selfish enough to put this girl's life in jeopardy for the sake of finding his brother, or would he put his brother's life in jeopardy for the sake of helping this equally innocent girl to get the hospital treatment she clearly needed? His morals were split, but he knew Sam would never forgive him if he chose his life over the girl's.

With heavy sigh, Dean found a house phone hanging on a nearby wall and dialed the infamous number, already thinking of excuses of his relation to the unknown injured, figuring he'd have to do some sneaking around before the ambulance arrived in order to seem legitimate. If he was going to find out what happened and who that man may be, he was going to have to get into the girl's room – whether that meant the natural way, or the breaking and entering way.

He _had_ to find his brother, and he was ready to do just about anything.


	7. Chapter 7

The day had started out like any other –

5:30 AM – Wake up and get dressed.

5:45 AM – Have breakfast.

6:00 AM – Wash/dry all dishes in sink - put away.

6:30 AM – Meditate.

7:30 AM – Latin study session.

9:30 AM to 11:00 AM – Break.

As the years had gone by and his caretakers had become more lenient to where he spent his break time, Sam found himself wandering out into the woods most often. It was the only time they weren't hovering over him constantly, though in the beginning they'd been like moles on his back. He'd tried escaping numerous times at first, crying himself to sleep every time they caught him – and they always did – and beat him after bringing him back. He'd made peace many years ago with the fact that he was stuck there, never to see his brother again, as much as it killed him to think so. Dean had probably forgotten about him anyways and was hopefully in college or trade school, bettering himself even without his little brother to impress. Dean had always been so smart and strong – if only to Sam.

Sam was always thinking about Dean, especially during his mid to late-morning break as he strolled aimlessly through the forest which stretched out for miles and miles behind the fair-sized mountain house he was forced to call home. He'd yet to truly figure out where he was, though there were several very enormous and expansive mountains which surrounded them, their white caps like daggers in the typically blue sky.

When he'd first stepped out into the brisk, summer morning air, he hadn't sensed anything off. His longtime captures, Dan and Sal, had nodded at him before he opened the door and somewhat at least escaped their presence. They knew they could trust him to come back because if he didn't in his allotted time, they would sick the invisible hounds after him and find him much quicker - as if he'd had a tracker on.

He walked off in a direction he hadn't been in quite a while – had it been two years already since he'd traveled this nearly hidden pathway? It was very grown up and provided a lot of coverage from the rising sun which lightly skinned the Earth and desired to redden his skin. Even so, he still enjoyed its warm company since it was usually fairly cool in the mountains.

He made sure to set his watch timer to go off 30 minutes before he needed to be back as he usually did, and continued forward at a quicker pace. Not only were his breaks a time for relaxing, but exercise as well, if he so chooses. Remaining healthy through his diet and exercising meant a lot to him, and though Dan and Sal enforced it, he had made it clear from the beginning. Currently, he was in an extremely healthy state and could bench press nearly 400 pounds, which he knew was crazy impossible especially for his skinny, 21-year-old frame – but he did it. He'd known for a long time that there was something different about him, but he hadn't ever thought it was in the muscle department.

Not only were his physical abilities far more advanced than someone his age, but his mind as well. Sometimes he would have dreams of people he knew for a fact he'd never met, especially since he'd been hidden away for practically 15 years. Most of the dreams were more like nightmares, always ending with someone he didn't know dying, which severely troubled him. It was like being chained to a chair as someone was being tortured right in front of him, leaving him as a mere onlooker as they met their demise.

After careful consideration and his eventual admission about them to Sal (he was much closer to her, as she wasn't as abrasive as Dan, whom he'd always had a sore spot for ever since he'd kidnapped him in the first place), who'd smiled and smoothed his bangs back like she did whenever she was proud of him, he wasn't sure if they were a bad thing or not. Having been raised by people who'd drilled into his head that he had a destiny to be filled and with grand outcomes, he had a feeling the dreams were all just a part of the process despite their gruesome scenes. He doubted they were real, anyways.

About an hour into his walk, he froze at the distant sound of leaves and twigs crunching in a similar rhythm as they did when he walked. Another person? He hadn't had contact with the outside world in so long that he felt like a frightened deer in the headlights, though he didn't see them yet. Maybe it was just another animal jumping around…but then he heard that unmistakable sound of a voice, and it seemed to be alone.

"Fucking GPS not working in the middle of nowhere…how the hell am I supposed to find my way out of this huge-ass forest?! I'm gonna die here, aren't I? Well that's just fucking fantastic!" the voice, seemingly feminine, sounded enraged at itself as it's footsteps became louder and neared Sam. He didn't trust himself to speak, unsure if he could trust whoever it was, but knew he had to confront him. He hadn't realized how starved he was from the outside. Dan and Sal had been nice company and had honestly treated him well once he realized the importance of their guidance, but he was aching to talk to someone normal.

"Hello?" He decided to call out, and the footsteps stopped short behind large bushes several feet away from him.

"Who's there?! Why are you out here – this is literally the middle of nowhere. I'm not even supposed to be out here." The voice answered incredulously, slowly moving around the bush and into Sam's view. There, hunched slightly with a complex bag on her back and a funny looking device in her hand, stood a girl about his age with somewhat familiar fire-red hair pulled back in a mid-length ponytail. A moment of silence gathered between them as they took each other in, eyes widening and squinting alike in faint recognition.

"Are you…?" Sam couldn't think of her name, and realized all those years ago – if this were the girl he'd last seen – he'd never gotten her name. She nearly fell back in amazement, her large bag weighing her down, and moved closer.

"No way…oh…my…GOD! Wait no…SAM?!" She asked to confirm her suspicions, and when he nodded slowly in awe, she threw off her bag and ran at him, giving him the biggest hug he'd received in over a decade. They stood like that for much longer than he'd thought they would, but wasn't complaining a bit. He'd forgotten how good it felt to be hugged so lovingly, which felt a little strange especially considering he barely knew her. Eventually they parted, though the girl still hung on to him.

"Oh my fucking Jesus Christ, man, where the hell have you been all these years?! I've had to stop Dean from killing himself just to find you – it's been so long! What the hell happened?! Was it that guy? He kidnapped you and has been keeping you here all these years? That's fucked up…" It came back to Sam how much of a chatter box the girl was, but again, he didn't mind a single bit. Her sweet, young voice was so soothing from the typical hissing of his elders. Also, the mention of Dean's name – spoken by someone else rather than if he were talking to himself – was like the bells of heaven ringing out and calling to him.

"Dean? He's been looking for me all this time? I thought he would've given up at least after a few months…" Sam muttered almost angrily, hoping that searching for him hadn't taken up all past 15 years of his brother's precious life. Sam would hate himself if that were the case.

"Well, I mean, he kind of moved on but just enough to eventually get his GED (really he was forced by one of his last foster parents), and then decided to commit his life to finding you. He got into some serious shit man. We've found stuff out there in the dark that you couldn't even dream of." A haunted look fogged over her bright blue eyes, and she frowned. "No matter how many lives we save, he won't stop until he finds you. He's tried selling his soul, but when they hear what for, they won't allow it. There's too much at stake or something. Do you know what the hell is going on?" She added, suddenly gripping his arms tighter as if bracing herself.

"I-…sell his soul? How does that even work?! I know the basics of what's happening, and it's nothing to be afraid of. It's my destiny after all. Everything will work out in the end. Where is Dean?" Sam switched subjects lightning fast, very anxious to see his brother after so long. The girl pursed her lips and glanced back at her things.

"Ask the damn GPS. We split up several hours ago because he'd finally caught wind of a demonic presence out here in the middle of fucking nowhere. OH! I do have my walky-talky that I haven't tried recently, and though I'm not sure it'll work, we can give it a shot." She eagerly took off for her bag and pulled a radio sort of device out of a side pocket. Sam eyed it confusedly, but sad nothing as he watched her bring it back to him and fiddle with buttons and knobs. A crackling sound came from the device and had Sam's eyes wider than dinner plates.

"Dean? Are you there?!" She called out in a clear voice, but there was no answer. "Must be a signal problem…I bet if we were up higher…" She twisted as she began scanning the dense foliage above, her eyebrows knitting in frustration.

"I could climb up. Been meaning to do my arm exercises today." Sam offered and she shrugged and handed him the device, shaking her head with a smile when he gave her a look of confusion. Once she'd shown him how to properly use it – he was fast at picking nearly anything up once taught to him – he pocketed it and rubbed his hands together and looked for a tree that went above most of the others.

He found it after a few minutes of shuffling around, and gave the girl a final small smile, which she returned with an added thumbs up. The hand sign made him smile, remembering Dean would do the same. The thought of his brother and the close proximity Sam was to being with him again refueled his excitement and he grabbed ahold of the tree he'd chosen and began to climb.

Climbing was a breeze and he scaled the tall tree in a few minutes, reaching the tip with a triumphant yip which he heard the girl guffaw at. Balancing on two different limbs, he pulled the walky-talky out of his back pocket and pushed the buttons just as the girl had shown him, then held the large side one down to speak.

"Hello? Dean?" He asked tentatively, the crackle of the device still stressing him out. There was a minute or two of silence before a gruff, worried voice called out from the speaker.

"Charlie? Who the hell is this and where's Charlie!?" the voice, _Dean's voice_ , was filled with worry and concern that almost had Sam falling from his perch. He'd missed him _so damn much_.

"Dean! Dean, it's me. Sam! I'm here with Charlie!" Sam choked on his words, unsure why he was becoming emotional. He hadn't cried in years and the sensation felt both strange and freeing. There was another small silence, and the leaves on the trees shook with a small gust of wind, and Sam shivered with them in anticipation.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was small and broken up, nothing like the husky man it'd portrayed moments before. "This has gotta be some sort of joke. What are you, a skin walker? You get your sick kicks holding Charlie prisoner and imitating my brother whose been missing for 15 years?!" He became slowly angrier and angrier, the conversation pivoting completely from where Sam had thought it was heading.

"No, Dean, please! I'm not kidding here, man, it's _me_! It's your Sammy! Please, Dean, I've missed you so damn much don't you believe me?!" Sam found himself pleading, gripping the walky-talky as if his life depended on it. And it a way it did.

"Tell me something only Sam would know." Dean asked simply, his voice weary.

"Uhmm…well when I was five, I got made fun of by some bullies at school because of my out of style, hand-me-down clothes, and I remember how furious you were so you snuck out of your class while I was at recess outside and punched the lights outta the kids who'd made fun of me. I told you later that they'd stopped, but…they really hadn't. They kept saying I was a sissy for not being able to stick up for myself and needed you to pick my fights. But you were always my number one hero and always will be, Dean - please, you have to believe me." Sam was near tears, unsure what had made him think of the story that'd happened so very long ago, but prayed to his lord that Dean would stop what could become twenty questions and just get his ass in gear.

"Oh my God…Sam?! Sam it's...really you?!" Dean's voice broke after the longest silence yet, and Sam hugged the walky-talky to his chest as if it could somehow transfer to his brother.

"Where are you?" Dean asked, almost sounding afraid this would be as close as he got to finding his little brother. Sam had much more faith in himself in finding Dean since he knew the forest so well.

That was, until his watch started beeping. One hour left.

Dean could be anywhere in the forest which was expansive in all directions that he'd been able to tell, and it would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Nearly impossible with the time he had left before Dan and Sal got suspicious and had the invisible hounds after him. The last thing he wanted to have happen would be Dean and Charlie (he'd _finally_ found out her name) getting hurt or worse by those evil beings.

"Dean, listen very closely. I only have so much time, and if I'm going to get you back to the house without getting mauled first, you're going to have to give me a specific description of where you are right now. Probably somewhere high, right? I had to climb a tree to get Charlie's walky-talky to catch your signal." Dean confirmed Sam's guess with bated breath, and Sam listened intently as Dean described a place that Sam realized he frequented quite often – a blooming meadow with a large, old willow tree in the center. A knot formed in Sam's stomach when he also realized that that meant Dean was much farther away than a thirty minute walk, most likely more like 45 minutes to an hour.

"Can you stay there for the night? I'll send Charlie your way – don't worry I have paths between most of my favorite places – and you guys can stay there till my next break time tomorrow morning at 9:00. I'll make my way out to you then, and bring you back to the house. Is that ok?" Sam formulated, hoping his brother was more malleable to Sam's ideas and plans than he was when they were little. Dean thankfully agreed, though uncertainty and questions rose which Sam soothed immediately.

"I've missed you, Sammy. Everything I've done since you were taken has been leading up to this moment. Please hurry." Dean quietly admitted, his voice cracking along with the crackling of the devices, and Sam smiled.

"Love you too, Dean. I'll hurry." He answered back, knowing that was exactly what Dean meant.

After several moments of silence, and as Sam was figuring Dean was going to leave it at that, the soft crackle of the walky-talky emitted "Bitch.", to which Sam laughed warmly at.

"Jerk." He grumbled back, having nearly forgotten that silly exchange they'd started when Sam was first learning big boy words and Dean was teaching him. The static sound of Dean's laughter on the other end warmed Sam's heart tenfold as he pocketed the device and climbed down.

Charlie was waiting below, occupied with her GPS until she heard him land feet first on the forest floor.

"So what's the deal? Where's he at? He believed you were you, right? He's so stubborn I don't know how you lived with him as long as you did…" She bombarded him, and he shook his head with a grin.

"I know where he is, but it would take me much longer than I have to reach him, but I can give you the direction you have to go in to find him. He'll be in a meadow on a hill with a huge, old willow tree in the middle – it's due…west from here." He took a moment to make sure he had the right direction, and determined he definitely did, using his path as a reference.

"Well, my GPS may not work but I still have my compass. What do you mean that it would take you longer than you have? Are you on some strict schedule or something?" She asked curiously, looking up at him after pulling out her small, round compass.

"Yeah I am, and if I'm late returning by 10 minutes after 11 AM, they'll send invisible hounds after me." Sam glanced away, not liking talking about the hounds. Charlie's eyes widened at him in odd recognition, quickly worrying him.

"They send _hell hounds_ after you if you break your curfew?! Dude, how are you still alive!?" She wonders with deep concern, her eyes grazing over him.

"Hell hounds? Well I suppose that makes sense. Perhaps one day they will obey me…" He muttered, and Charlie tried to get his attention, but he was already turned around and walking back the way he came.

"West, Charlie. Just go west." He called over his shoulder as he tried piecing together why hell hounds would be sent after him. Weren't they going to be a part of his destiny? Maybe they were just being acquainted with Sam's scent so that when the time came, they could find him no matter where he was. Aid him in any way he needed.

His possible future bubbled harrowingly in his head as he walked on, a significant pep in his step knowing that he would be rejoining with his brother tomorrow.

The 15-year-old stone wall would finally come crumbling down, and he would once again be able to feel whole again.

 _Finally_.


	8. Chapter 8

Rain drops struck at his eyes as he made a cautious loop around the perimeter of the meadow. A slick breeze pushed at the mix of weeds and flowers in the meadow, causing them to shiver with anticipation – or perhaps that was just him.

Dean couldn't stop sweating, although the torrential downpour masked most of it – it wasn't that hot either, especially for the morning, and he'd been in much more stressful situations than this and he'd barely perspired. Touchy emotions weren't really his thing.

He could feel Charlie watching him from the old tree in the center of the meadow, her hair pulled back in a ponytail of fire peeking out from the cap she wore. At first she had tried making small conversation with him after everything had been explained and discussed, but eventually she'd given up as he began skirting the edges with a nervous lilt and only answered her questions in half-attempted grunts. The only sounds that mattered to Dean was the cracking of sticks and shifting of leaves anywhere beyond him.

"Time." Dean called out as he did ever few minutes, antsy as a bat trapped in Hell.

"10:10, or 2 minutes since the last time you asked." Charlie commented with a snort and a shake of her head. "Better make a wish."

"That's only at 11:11." Dean muttered with a scoff, continuing his pacing. For most of his life he didn't believe in wishes, luck, or whatever else kind of bullshit superstition people came up with. He believed in what he hunted – what existed in front of him, physically. Fate and destiny were the biological parents he never grew up with and thus didn't have any say over him. His general attitude was "fuck everything" at this point, really.

Up till now.

The idea of actually finding his little brother after all these years gave him a small inch towards believing in luck. If it was all true and Sam showed up, Dean would even consider himself _blessed_. He would never let that kid out of his sight again.

As his mind constantly tripped over itself with worried thought, the sound of soft footsteps and light breathing caught his ear from somewhere nearby in the thick of the woods. He immediately stopped in his tracks and felt his body begin shaking horrendously, his eyes wide like an owl's despite the rain.

" _Dean?_ " a small whisper came from the same direction and Dean thought he might have a heart attack. His tongue seemed to grow 10 times thicker, becoming dry and preventing him from immediately answering back. His conscience was screaming at him to say something, but he was frozen.

Suddenly, a tan, wet face was highlighted by a string of light which managed to peak through both the clouds and the canopy of trees several feet into the dense forest, and Dean swore he would faint. Instead though, his muscles launched him through the thick weeds and bushes, thorns ripping at his jeans but never equally snagging his attention.

A flash of brown and red rammed into him, nearly knocking him off his feet. Warmth from a bear hug surrounded him and squeezed him senseless. After all this time, he was finally reconnected with his baby brother and it felt strange but so _fucking amazing_. In retrospect, it was just a really personal hug, but it meant so much more than that to the both of them.

After several minutes passed, Sam drew away and stepped back, looking Dean up and down with wide, wild eyes. Sam's hair was nearly to his shoulders, chocolatey brown bangs just above his eyes which stuck in layered clumps to his face and head from the rain. The brown in his eyes had faded somewhat and appeared more hazel, blue swirling in his irises as well. There was an added roughness to the innocence Dean had remembered him having, which worried him more than he'd like it, becoming increasingly curious as to where he's been hidden and what's been done to him. As far as Dean can tell, there is still a kind, caring little brother in the large, toned man standing in front of him. He had to believe it, at least.

"Hey." Sam breathed, wonder and curiosity alive in his bright eyes despite the gloomy weather – if anything the rain added to a more touching setting. Not that Dean was thinking about anything much else but his brother at the moment. He broke into a toothy grin and found himself laughing.

"Hey!? We haven't seen each other in 15 years and you say 'Hey'?! You are just as original as I remember you being…" Dean retorted lightly, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Sam scoffed but began laughing as well. They drew into each other for another hug which felt more familiar than the first time. Dean was sure he could've spent the rest of his life in that single moment although he would never admit to it.

"Alright, alright, chick-flick moment is over." Dean announced, reluctance in his arms as he withdrew them from around his brother's back. Sam chuckled and gazed at Dean, making Dean feel itchy and realized they were still just standing out in the rain – Sam could catch cold!

"Hey, let's go up to Charlie at that old tree and get dry. Sound good, Sammy?" Dean offers, starting to turn and walk that way before Sam grabbed his forearm. "What?"

Sam smiled warmly, "I've missed hearing you call me that, even though it's so childish. I've really missed you Dean." He added, Dean unsure if Sam was crying or it was just the rain. Either way he felt far too touched and vulnerable, and before turning to head towards the tree again, he reached forward with his free arm and slung it across Sam's wide shoulders.

"I missed you too, Sammy." He chuckled, using his arm around his little brother to guide him up the hill to the tree. Charlie was sitting in the crook of a branch, watching them with a warm smile.

"You guys are precious." She cooed, pouting innocently at them as they approached. Dean would've slugged her if he hadn't noticed the legitimate honesty in her voice and on her face, although he seriously thought about it.

"Whatever." Was all he cared to retort, as he pulled away from Sam and started digging in his bag for his extra rain jacket, as Sam had not appeared wearing one.

Once found, he wordlessly handed it to Sam who looked down at it dumbfoundedly.

"What's that for?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, apparently genuinely confused. Dean rolled his eyes and sighed.

"It's a rain coat. You wear it in the rain. To protect you from rain. So, put it on. It's raining." He explained haltingly, using wild gestures to the sky and his brother who looked back at him emotionless.

"Dean, I know what a rain coat is, I just wasn't sure why you would give me one. I know it's raining, but it's not rain coat bad." Sam replied slightly annoyedly though in all good humor. "I'm not five anymore ya know."

"Oh? I couldn't tell by your haircut, Danny Torrance. You know I think I have some scissors somewhere in my bag…"

"Don't you fucking dare, Dean Winchester!" Sam laughed, and Dean's world seemed to shine despite the pouring rain.

Suddenly, though, Sam stopped laughing and frowned.

"What's wrong, Sam?" Charlie spoke up again, as she had been watching and analyzing their silly, brotherly behavior while also keeping track of time.

Sam turned and looked back the way came, his eyes frantically scanning the perimeter. He acted as if he heard or sensed something they couldn't, and it somewhat freaked Dean out. He had forgotten in his initial bliss that he had no clue what Sam had been through all these years and that unknown territory frightened him.

"I… _shit_ …they know you're here somehow...they're letting them loose…the-"

"Please don't say Hell Hounds, Sam." Charlie butted in, frantic in her words and movements now as she gathered their things either way.

Sam slowly nodded in agreement. "Hell Hounds."

The words sent a shiver down his spine. They had to leave. Now.

"I thought you said as long as you got back in time they wouldn't send them! There's still 30 minutes between now and then!" Dean exclaimed as he frantically gathered all his equipment and stuffed it in his bag before shouldering it. The rain fell more ominously, each thump it sounded against the soft ground acting as impending pellets of doom, heightening Dean's senses and putting him on hyper aware adrenaline mode.

"We've gotta get outta here, Sammy. Put on the damn coat and come with us if you want to live." He shoveled out a little humor, but Sam shook his head with a fearful grimace.

"No…no, I can't leave here! It's not part of the plan! I have to try to make it back before they find me, or worse – you guys. You have to get out of here, please, Dean! GO!" Sam demanded as the rain and barking seemed to overwhelm him. Change him.

"What are you talking about, what 'plan'?! Sammy please we literally just came back together as a family, and I am NOT. LEAVING. YOU. HERE. SO LET'S _GO_!" Dean equally demanded, his voice shaking, palms sweating, heart pumping fast. Nothing and no one was going to keep him and Sam apart every again as long as he had something to say about it. Never again.

Reaching out and pulling Sam into a constricting hug, Dean muttered "Please, Sammy. Fuck whatever plan you're talking about. Be with us – with me. Please, I don't know how I would ever live without you, especially knowing where you are now."

"You've lived without me for 15 years, Dean. Don't make me do this. Don't ask me to do this." Sam was close to sobbing now, holding Dean extremely tight. Dean buried his head in Sam's neck for a moment, as if he could connect their souls together, but realized they'd always been connected. Even so, Sam needed Dean, he could tell, and Dean needed Sam. The time apart had magnified their codependency against all odds.

"I'm not asking, I'm pleading. Demanding. Don't let them take you away from me again. This isn't their decision, and it never was. Come on, Sammy." Dean pulled back and held out the rain coat for his little brother who stared back at it with tear stained cheeks. Or maybe it was just the rain again. Probably not.

Charlie watched from behind Dean with bated breath, her bag slung low on her shoulder and getting wet as she stood near the edge of the old tree's coverage. "Guys, we have to go. Come on, Sam. Dean might've been alive when you left, but he was just surviving. From what I can tell, you allow him to truly live instead of just existing. Please? I know I'm not that bad either." She tried to aid Dean in his efforts, and Dean was surprised when Sam grinned at what she said.

"You're awesome, Charlie, but…oh shit they're getting closer. Ahhhhgg…" Sam rocked between his decisions and watched as Dean quickly shoved all his shit in his bag, still holding the rain coat under his armpit.

Suddenly, Sam ripped the jacket out from Dean's hold and pulled it on quickly. "Screw this shit, let's go." He added for clarification, obviously having made a decision.

They took off down the hill, the rain coming down like bullets, driving them to go faster. Dean was eternally grateful to the fact that Charlie had gotten her GPS to work after yesterday, and they were able to follow it as they ran. Sam stayed in the middle, Dean unable to allow him out of his sight ever again. He had a feeling that was a bit impractical but he meant well by it. Never again, though.

Sam gave rapid updates of how close or far the manic barking and growling of the Hell Hounds were, each time noting that they were getting closer, but coming at them from the side of the forest with the most rocks and hills. Although it wasn't as bad as it could be, Dean was furious at whoever decided to let them out so early. Fucking figured.

According to Charlie, they were nearly to her old Jeep Cherokee, and Dean hoped it would be able to speed away despite the troubles they'd been having lately. Damn shock absorbers. Although where they parked wasn't too rocky or hidden for that matter, but everything seemed to count all of a sudden. No chances could be taken.

Dean's sides were cramping up and screaming for him to stop, but he pushed through the pain and kept his line of sight just over Sam's left shoulder every time he looked up from watching his step. When a red dot appeared far in the distance as they broke through some trees, Dean nearly whooped for joy, but decided against making any other noises than his labored breathing and heavy footfalls.

The closer the red dot became, the slower they seemed to be running, as if on an escalator track heading the opposite direction. At one point, Sam glanced back over his shoulder and turned pale.

"THEY'RE ON THE LAST HILL CLOSEST TO US! WE CAN GET TO THE JEEP, BUT WE'RE CUTTING IT REALLY FUCKING CLOSE!" He yells over the rain and their thundering feet, 100 or so yards from the Jeep and closing in. Dean figured Time was slapping them in the ass as things began to speed up and become clearer. He could practically see the lemon scented tree hanging above the dash.

Finally, they made it to the Jeep and threw themselves in, slamming the doors so hard the car shook like a wet dog. Charlie shoved her key into the ignition and the engine roared to life like a sleeping beast, and she put it in drive and punched the gas before the radio had even turned on. Dean and Sam had piled into the back seat, all of them breathing heavily as the Jeep lurched forward and took off, squealing against its insufficient mechanics. Sam whipped around and watched as they careened down a gravel road, confused and wondering how long the road had been there and how he'd never stumbled on it. Dean explained that it was fairly new and led to a large cabin in the other direction. Nice family. Fed them. Sam furrowed his brows and turned back to the front, glancing over his shoulder and reporting no Hell Hounds in sight.

"We're OK. Everything's going to be alright, OK Sammy?" Dean murmured as Sam stayed rigid next to him, shivering slightly. Dean gently rest his arm around Sam's shoulders and felt him melt a little underneath his comfort.

"It's OK. You're OK. We're OK. We'll get somewhere nice, safe, and warm, and you can get some real food to eat and we can all just be OK together."


	9. Chapter 9

Three days later, Sam found himself at the top of Niagara Falls, eyes closed, ears open. His hair whipped around his face from the sheer force of wind from the Falls, the air sticky with humidity. Sam had never felt so refreshed in his life.

The roaring of the Falls was unbelievable, making it difficult to even think - which is why he liked it so much. It allowed his mind to go blank, not thinking of a single thing as he became a droplet of water along with all the other droplets, just as humanity. There was nothing special about him when he was a water droplet – no responsibilities, no life and death – he was just there in existence.

"Sam! Hey man, we gotta go!" he could barely hear Dean's voice a foot away from him over the Falls. He felt a hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes, turning to meet Dean's wide green eyes which never failed to amaze him.

Glancing back at the Falls with his eyes open now, he squinted as droplets began to hit him from above, confused for a moment before realizing it had started to downpour.

"Come on, Sammy!" Dean yelled, wrapping his hand around Sam's upper arm and practically yanking him from where he stood. Sam was moving in slow motion, his mind rebooting as it nestled back into the worn niche in his swimming head. He stumbled, following Dean drunkenly, eyes developing black spots and body swooning. His hair was sticking to his head now, bands splayed on his forehead and cheeks like curving vines of poison ivy. His clothes stuck to his body like a second skin, making it increasingly difficult to move forward as Dean so begrudgingly demanded with rough tugs to his arm. Water droplets didn't have to deal with this.

"Where we goin'?" He managed to choke out as the rain pelted his face, not realizing that he was gazing up into the storm until his cheeks felt like rubber. The area around them was simply grey, as far as he could see. He couldn't imagine Dean finding anything in such terrible conditions, but he had faith in his big brother. That was something the water droplets did not have. Existing on one plain of totally ignorant knowledge did have its downsides.

"We're getting back to the Jeep. The last thing you need is fever on top of whatever you're developing. Come here- " Dean pulled Sam close to him as they came to an abrupt stop and pressed his hand against Sam's forehead. Dean's eyes were close to his own again, and Sam couldn't help but stare into those emerald orbs which have always perturbed him since he could remember.

"Shit…feels like you may already be running a fever – you're burning up! What the hell, Sammy." Dean cursed as he tugged him along again, this time finally reaching the Jeep. The pudgy, block-like, brick of a car was already breathing thick grey smoke since Charlie was inside waiting for them, her eyes lighting up upon noticing them, her door creaking open as she got out to confront them.

"Have a nice time?" She asked with a wild smile that fell once also noticing how rugged Sam looked. "Is he OK?"

"I don't know, Charlie. I guess the damn Cabin in The Woods had a long-overstayed visit for him so his immune system isn't as strong against human born illnesses as it would be, or whatever." Dean grunted as Sam could feel himself getting dizzy, black spots returning and attempting to join and cover his vision. Charlie and Dean's conversation faded in and out to him, and what he knew for sure was that he was sick – something he hadn't been ever since he got limes disease when he was 13. Worst summer of his life. He'd grown especially close to Dan and Sal that summer, as they had surely saved his life from a disease he was ready to die from. It was the first time he felt safe, as if he had something like a family, like Dean and he once had.

Dan and Sal. He would be lying if he said he didn't miss them. They had become his teachers, counselors, mentors, friends, and even family. Uncle Dan and Aunt Sal might've been rough with him and severely disciplined him beyond technical appropriation, but Sam had to admit they raised him to be just the man he was meant to be – a leader, an independent, a ruler. Dean had helped him through a gnarly childhood of subpar to terrible homes, and that was honorable in itself, but Sam knew where he needed to go, and what he needed to do next.

 _"_ _Someday you'll be strong and won't need us anymore, Sammy. You'll be our leader, and we'll be your proudest set of followers, you can count on that."_ Sal had said to Sam time and time again, especially whenever Sam got out of his head and started over complicating things. The future scared him then, and it always will, but he knows they'll be there for him – despite all that he'd done over the past week. They'd somehow always known something like that would happen, and had come accept it to a degree, he believed. Eventually, his training would have no hold on the hounds and they too would fight and rule at his heals.

Sam wasn't sure when they'd gotten into the Jeep or when it had gotten dark, but both became very obvious to him and he found peace from it. He'd always loved sitting out on the tin roof of the cabin and breathing in the night.

At some point, his window was rolled down and he stuck his head out the window, summer air which had turned abruptly cold in night's decent struck him fiercely, tears almost immediately forming and streaming down his face like they were weighted. He felt empty inside, for the first time in a long time, the absence of people – or demons, rather – who had become his family hitting him suddenly and taking the breath out of him. Rain began to pelt his face as they drove into a storm, lightning slicing through the dark abyss around them and revealing the ugly world along with it. Thunder rumbled across the sky like a chorus of old men in agreement of disagreement. A feeling of anger slammed into his heart and tore open his mind which had reverted to his 5-year-old self, still looking up to Dean and believing he would keep him safe.

Sam had learned very well over the past 15 years that only he could keep himself safe – along with an army that ensures that fact and a faithful following which demands the same from him as he does himself. He couldn't let the family he once knew get in the way of who he was meant to be. He didn't want Dean to get hurt, but if he were to cross him when things really started to boil, Sam would have no other choice but to remove him from the situation. Permanently.

Dark emotions and memories bubbled back to the surface of his mind as the storm swarmed furiously around them. Sam's hands were shaking and his eyes squeezed closed as he practically willed the storm to become even worse. He could barely hear Dean cussing about it in the driver's seat, hands wringing the steering wheel as he squinted out, trying to see beyond the wildly waving wipers and 10 feet of road his brights could reach. The speed of the Jeep had slowed, the rumble of the engine lost over the insane pounding of the rain. Sam couldn't keep from smiling, head soaked but still hanging out the window.

From somewhere in the far distance (of either in reality or just his mind, he wasn't sure) he heard the howling and crying of the hounds, and the familiar whooping of their owners. His true family. Dan and Sal's screams and caws both sent chills down his spine out of fear, and warmed his heart. He knew he would be punished severely for truly escaping for once, but he knew it was all a part of the master plan. They were just trying to set him in his place, send him down the right track, prepare him for his role that would not involve any room for horseplay and dawdling in the rocky fields of his past. He understood.

The door was a lot lighter than he expected. His body instinctively tried to grab for the frame in any way, but of course he missed and went tumbling like a balled-up piece of paper into the maddening storm raging around them. The last thing he heard was a mixture of Dean and Charlie's screams and the hounds howling with Dan and Sal's cheering and whooping as Sam apparently became visible to them in the pitch-black night.

As soon as his body slammed against the pavement, he had retreated to his own pitch-black night.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean slammed on the breaks as soon as he saw Sam tumble from the backseat, his passive, pale face disappearing into the darkest night Dean had driven through in a long time. Lightning cracked like electric whips all around them, thunder and wind joining together in an insane harmonic.

"SHIT – SAMMY!" Dean almost forgot to shift into 'park', throwing it forward at the last second before leaping out of the car. Charlie was clambering out of her seat after him, cussing along with him as they stumbled into the whirling darkness. They called out for Sam who was nowhere in sight, although they could only see a few feet ahead of them.

Dean's stomach was in knots and his heart beat faster than a race horse, his blood roaring in his ears as the rain stung his skin. He couldn't lose Sam now, not after everything he'd done to get him back – _not now_. He swore to himself he'd never let Sam fall through his fingers again, and here he is, another grain of sand in the storm. _Fuck_. Dean felt physically dizzy with worry, losing track of the difference between black pavement and black sky.

"Dean! Come on let's get in the car and go back the way we came! We can use the headlights to see!" Charlie yelled to him over the wind, Dean already stumbling away from her in hopes to find Sam perfectly intact and curled up on the side of the road nearby. Charlie grabbed Dean's arm and yanked him towards the Jeep and he practically growled at her.

"Dean, please! There's no way we can find him without some light! Come on, man, please!" She pleaded with him, and he tumbled back into her, landing in her arms and hugging her while sobbing. He wasn't sure why he was being so childish and weepy when he had a brother to find, but whether it was something in the air or pent up emotions he'd shoved into the back of his mind, he had lost the will to fight. Charlie hugged him close and he could feel her shivering, the rain soon to turn them into ice statues if they didn't act soon. Although he wouldn't mind the idea of feeling safe in her arms for the night despite being an icicle, he knew there were bigger things at stake.

Finally, he was able to pull away from Charlie's comforting warmth and let the rain wash away the big crocodile tears, allowing him to think straight. He needed to do this. For Sam. He wasn't sure how his baby brother fell out of the Jeep, and he didn't care if he'd done it on purpose or any other reason – Sammy has always been his world, and without his world he's just floating in space, and he was never going through that again. If it weren't for Charlie he probably would've ODed by now. He owed both of them his life and trust.

"Alright. Let's do this shit." He growled into the night, and Charlie grinned sadistically.

"That's the Dean I know and love."

They jumped back into the Jeep and Dean pulled a screeching U-turn before making sure all of his lights were on their brightest setting as they shuddered across the slick pavement. Their eyes darted every which way, necks craning and voices raw as they screamed out their windows for Sam. For hope.

As they inched forward, Dean was finding it harder and harder to maintain his speed, and the more he pressed the peddle down the thicker the air seemed to be. It was as if something were physically stopping them from getting any further.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean muttered, revving the engine with his muddy shoes planted firmly on the gas pedal. Charlie gave him a worried and confused look, neither of them bothering to speak more because they could even feel the effect of something very strong and powerful holding them back.

From the very edge of the light ahead of them they could barely make out a figure. A person in dark clothing and hair that covered their face, their right arm raised straight from their body and palm flat, as if motioning them to stop. The way that the person held themselves implied great power and notoriety – they were confident in their choices and would act against the Jeep if necessary.

Dean wasn't totally sure where he was getting all of these assumptions from a person he could barely see, but they appeared obvious to him like written words in his head, laid out perfectly like a simple message. He didn't like it one bit.

Still revving the engine, more furiously now, Dean gripped the steering wheel harder, his knuckles whitening. Charlie tried getting out, but the handle slapped back against the door as if it were locked, which both of them knew very well it wasn't.

"Dean, what the fuck is going on? Who is that and why do I feel very trapped…" Charlie vocalized her quickening worry, hands shaking a little in her lap. Dean growled in frustration.

"Dammit I don't know! I'm getting a real shit feeling about whatever is about to happen though."

The figure then stepped into full view, hair whipping around their head as the heavy rain persisted. "Shit…" Dean and Charlie harmonized.

It was Sam. Of course it was Sam, because who else could it be. Nothing good could possibly happen to Dean – not when he was little, not when he was a teenager, not when he was so close to having Sam in his life again indefinitely. Something always had to screw up and he was getting very, very tired of it.

Putting the Jeep into 'park', Dean leans out the window and stands up as well as he can, the rain pelting him all the while as he screams to his brother. Or what used to be his brother.

"SAMMY, PLEASE! I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH THESE PAST YEARS AND I DON'T CARE HOW MESSED UP YOU MAY FEEL BECAUSE I FEEL THE SAME WAY! COME ON, SAMMY, PLEASE COME BACK TO US! I NEED YOU SAM!" Dean was choking on his words as he pulled himself from the window and onto the pavement. Sam's face was cold and his body rigid, all feelings void as Dean slowly approached him.

"Get back in the car and drive away, Dean. This is where I get off." Sam spoke calmly but with a forcefulness that almost had Dean taking a step backwards. He could literally hear Sam's voice in his head, urging his body to listen even if his mind completely disagreed with the foreign command.

"NO, SAMMY, PLEASE, J-JUST COME ON!" Dean stood his ground, trying to inch forward against his brother's unlocked power.

"I don't belong with you, Dean. We may be blood bound, but we are not family." Sam bit out, his words strained as if he were under a huge weight. Sam's eyes fluttered shut as he concentrated, and Dean continued to inch forward. There really was some sort of weight on Sam – though it may not be physical…

Suddenly Dean was in the air, his back slamming down on the windshield of the Jeep. Charlie's scream matched the waling of the wind as he tumbled off onto the ground, glass shards following his crumpled body. A large hand immediately grabbed him by the front of his shirt and shoved him against the driver side door, thunder rumbling just after a crack of lightning struck the ground near them. Dean couldn't tell the difference between sweat, tears, rain, or blood on his face. He suspected all of it was there. What a party.

Barely able to see through the black dots which swarmed his vision, Sam grinned a few inches in front of him.

"Sammy…why?" Dean whispered, and Sam's grin flickered for a second.

"After all those years without you, I had to figure out who I was on my own – with a little help from my real family." Sam's eyes turned blacker than the night itself, and Dean's mind went blank.

"You…you're not Sam."

"Yes, I am, Dean. That's the best part. I get to be my true self if you're out of the picture so what's there to lose if I don't let you go? You just had to keep poking around up there - I had to do something to stop you. Pity. The Jeep was so…comfortable." Sam rambled, but Dean's attention was focused on the noises around them – Charlie hadn't made a peep and he knew that could be good or bad news. He had to trust she was going to make a move at some point, and he needed to keep Sam's attention on him until then.

"Yeah, thanks a lot, you little asshole. That'll take hundreds of dollars to repair. Can I get your insurance's name?" Dean quipped, hearing rustling behind him in the Jeep. She was going for a rifle, he bet.

Sam reared back and punched him, and he blacked out for a moment or two before his eyes rolled forward again to the biggest shit eating grin he'd ever seen Sam wear.

"How about I send you to Hell instead?" Sam retorted, and Dean spit blood at him, splattering onto his right cheek and eye. "YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT." Sam was done talking himself up.

As he reared back to punch Dean once more, Charlie called out his name, causing him to look up just in time for a face full of holy water. Dean was glad and somewhat surprised that she'd gone with that instead of a gun considering that it really could just be demonic possession and not Sam… although his hopes had been flickering out every second under Sam's grip.

Sam screeched and dropped Dean like a hot plate, and Dean slid down the side of the Jeep onto his ass, alright with being reconnected with the ground this time. Charlie leaped on top of the Jeep and slid across the hood like a Duke Boy, landing on Dean's side with something small clutched in her hand. It looked like a necklace…

Still sizzling, Sam's head snapped up at Charlie, growling like a wild dog, furious from being caught off guard. She approached him as fast as she could but her stealth was gone and he was pissed and completely aware of her intents to overthrow him. Dean knew he had to do something.

Sam's leg was closest to him, so he wrapped his arms around it as hard and vice-like as he could, attempting to somewhat disable a part of him. The moment Sam glanced away from Charlie to Dean, the former lurched forward and slammed down a thick thread around Sam's neck. An immediate cloud of black smoke rocketed out of him, his scream matching the howling wind as the evil escaped him. His body shuddered violently as the last of the demon exited him, and he crumpled to the ground as Dean had earlier.

Dean pulled himself closer to Sam, pushing the hair from his baby brother's sweaty face and holding his head in his hands as he began to tear up. Dean prayed it was all over now because he wasn't sure he could take much more. He would if he had to, though. Anything to save his family.

Charlie knelt beside them and checked Dean out, noting that his back was covered in blood and they needed to get to a hospital and it wasn't safe out here and they needed to leave and they needed…needed…

Dean could feel himself slipping from the loss of blood and the punch Sam had given him would have given the Hulk a run for his money.

"Char…get Sam…safe…" in his head the words strung together perfectly, but on the way out of his mouth they sounded disconnected and drunken. He couldn't do it. He could barely feel Charlie jostling him as he passed out next to his brother. He knew he'd be paying for it later, but for now he just wanted to not exist.


End file.
